


Baccano! Attraverso la Vigna [Through the Grapevine]

by Ricky B (littletoes101)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Family, Mpreg, Multi, graham is trans, shameless self indulgence, trans fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletoes101/pseuds/Ricky%20B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after their parents' stories were left unfinished, the children of Baccano! come to fill in the gaps and continue spinning the legacy their parents left behind. [original version was deleted somehow, this is the same stuff. still updating]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Il Gandor Principe [The Gandor Prince]

**May 30** ** th ** **, 1934**

Six o' clock A.M. in New York City, and everything was mostly still. The sun had just begun to peek out over the horizon, casting a gentle yellow glow over the city. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air, as a huge thunderstorm had just passed not an hour ago. A stray cat scrounged around in an alleyway, pawing through the garbage it had just knocked on the ground from a trashcan that had been put out without a lid. It was frightened away, however, when a red blur of a man ran past it towards an apartment at the end of the alleyway.

“Key, key, key, where does Firo keep the stupid—ah, there it is,” the man muttered to himself as he lifted up the doormat, taking the spare key out from under it and using it to unlock the door. Once it was unlocked, the intruder invited himself into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. Running into a room in the hallway, he jumped on the bed where two sleeping figures laid, exclaiming loudly, “Wake up, wake up! The Prince is here!”

“Claire!” One of the previously sleeping figures hissed, sitting up in bed and turning on the lamp as he looked at the red-haired Claire Stanfield through narrowed eyes. From beside him, his messy red-haired female partner sat up as well, yawning and stretching as she rubbed at her eyes. “We didn't order a wake-up call! Wha's this about a Prince?”

“Oh, c'mon Firo, you're not _that_ stupid, are you?” Claire laughed, jumping off of the bed and sitting on the bedside table, legs neatly crossed in front of him. The brown-haired boy Firo Prochainezo glared at him again. “The _Prince_! The Gandor Prince!”

“Oh!” Firo exclaimed when the realization finally hit him. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked over at the woman beside him. “Didja hear that, Ennis? The baby's here!”

“Mhm,” she yawned, rubbing wearily at her eyes before flopping back down onto her soft pillow. “Mm...that's good...”

“He's gonna want ya' to be there,” Claire told Firo matter-of-factly, jumping off of the bedside table and strolling over to the bedroom door. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got more people to tell. Tell 'im I said “You're welcome”!” And then the man was gone as quickly as he'd come, leaving Firo to tuck in the sleeping Ennis and find suitable clothes to wear to his friend's house.

* * *

Around that same time, a rough-looking man with a cigar clasped tightly between his teeth walked briskly down Millionaire Row, pausing in front of a very nice looking penthouse. Even from where he stood outside, he could see that there was much commotion going on inside, and his usually stoic face curved upwards into a smile. Taking out his cigar and blowing out a cloud of smoke, he carefully put it out, flicking it into the trashcan by the road. This was no place to have a lit cigar.

Walking into the house, the man first noticed a huge gathering of people at the base of the stairs, peering up them excitedly. With much gusto, a couple dressed in nightgowns bounded over to him, each one taking one of his hands in theirs.

“Oh, Kieth, you're just in time!”

“Just in time!”

“Luck's been asking around for you!”

“Yeah, he even sent Claire out to tell everyone and try to find you!”

“Isaac, Miria, please, back off and let the man have some space,” a tall, spectacled man chuckled softly as he made his way over to them. The couple, Isaac Dian and Miria Harvent, did as he said and let go of the man Keith Gandor's hands, moving to the side as the tall man walked up to him. Keith looked up at him, a warm smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “Keith. I take it you're here to see them?” The man, Maiza Avaro, had been involved in the delivery of the first Gandor Prince, and the eldest Gandor nodded. It was only customary that he would be the first, after Maiza and the parents, to see his new nephew. “Well, go on up. They're waiting for you.”

He didn't have to be told twice. Carefully, he ascended the stairs, his footsteps light as he reached the top. It didn't take long for the faint sound of a baby's cry to reach his ears, and Keith perked up, alert as a watchdog. Making his way down the hall, he reached a room at the end of the hallway with the door cracked slightly. Gently pushing it open, Keith peered inside, smiling again as he saw his youngest brother, Luck Gandor, and his partner, Dallas Genoard standing over a cradle, looking down inside with nothing but love and awe. Dallas, being the baby's mother, gently hushed the newborn's loud cries, picking up the blanket-clad newborn and holding him carefully in his arms. Now noticing Keith, Luck's eyes lit up, and he smiled wide.

“Keith,” he greeted, and his brother stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. The two of them looked absolutely exhausted, no doubt from the hectic birth of the little Prince that Dallas held in his arms. From where he was standing, Keith couldn't quite get a good look, so he stepped forward as Dallas shifted the baby in his arms so that his uncle could see him.

He was a beautiful little baby, that was for sure, and his whimpers finally quieted as Keith peered down at him. He had dark, reddish-brown hair like his mother's, but his eyes were still shut tight. Chances were, though, that they'd be the stunning gold color of the Gandor family. Reaching down, Keith gave his nephew's cheek a gentle scrub with his thumb, watching as he yawned and cuddled into his mother's chest. Both Luck and Dallas gave soft chuckles as Luck pressed his forehead against his fiance's, looking back at Keith as he quietly asked one question;

“What's his name?”

Dallas nudged Luck, a signal for him to tell him, and Luck grinned. “Scout. Scout Luck Genoard-Gandor.”

Keith nodded slowly, his show of approval as he stood silently, watching as the parents cooed over their newborn.

The Gandor's Prince had finally arrived.

  
  



	2. Mes Anges [My Angels]

**July 16** ** th ** **, 1935**

“Oh, Uncle, say hello to my little angels!”

At the sound of his homicidal nephew's voice, Placido Russo's eyebrow twitched irritably, looking up at the man who'd just entered his office. He'd had little contact with the man since he'd decided to root himself in New York City last year, and Placido figured that by “little angels” he meant something like a new pair of guns, but he was completely shocked when he realized what he was actually talking about. There, standing in front of him was his nephew Ladd Russo, holding two infants in his arms. One of them, a black haired little girl (Placido figured she was a girl from the pink bow in her hair) was busy tugging on a strand of Ladd's blonde hair, and the other one, a blonde-haired, tiny little thing (he couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl), was fast asleep in the crook of Ladd's right arm, sucking happily on his fist. It was a sight Placido never expected to see, and he could only stare in shock, his jaw hanging slack.

“Aren't they just the most precious things you've ever seen?” Ladd cooed, turning his head so he could rub his nose against the girl's cheek. She gurgled happily, continuing to pull on his hair. “The little girl here is Shane, and this little boy is Sean. It's too bad you couldn't meet 'em earlier, their mama is way overprotective.”

“You're crazy,” Placido finally managed to sputter out, and Ladd laughed heartily.

“Oh? Really, Uncle, this is probably the _least_ crazy thing I've ever done!” There was truth to his words, and Placido frowned as he watched the blonde-haired babe suck on his fist, wondering if he'd be as crazy as his sire.

“That ain't what I meant, a crazy bastard like you ain't fit for raisin' kids, 'less you _want_ 'em to be nutcases like you!”

“Ah, I wouldn't worry about that. Their mama'll cancel me out for sure.”

“Who _is_ their mama?” He asked, curious just as to who would be crazy enough to carry Ladd's offspring. To his knowledge, the woman Lua whom Ladd had previously been engaged to was no longer in the picture. Had he gone and knocked up some random broad? Placido doubted it. Ladd didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd randomly have unprotected sex with just anyone.

“Y'know Uncle, I'd _love_ to tell ya', but he'd be really pissy if I did!”

“ _HE?!_ ” Placido's surprised cry finally woke the sleeping Sean, who pulled his fist from his mouth and looked up at his father with wide, baby blue eyes. He gave a few short whimpers, then started to wail, and Ladd frowned, shifting him in his arm a bit.

“No, no no no, don't cry,” Ladd murmured, his voice surprisingly low and soft as he carefully reached over with his robotic left hand, gently tapping the baby's nose. Sean sniffled as he did, wriggling and whining but stopping his crying. “Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but it looks like this little guy's had enough. We'll be in New York if you need us!” Ladd purred, and with that, he skipped out, humming the tune of “Alouette” as he went, gone as quickly as he had came.


	3. Die Familie [The Family]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Graham is DFAB trans here, to clear up any confusion.

**July 16 th, 1935**

This should be the most stressful time of their lives, Shaft thought, brown eyes focused on the man lying in the bed in front of him. Sham had gone through hundreds of memories from other vessels who were already fathers, trying to figure out what their wives had gone through, how it had been, and most of what he got in reply was pain. There was absolutely no doubt in Shaft's mind that Graham had to be in an incredible amount of pain, even if he wasn't screaming bloody murder. In fact, both Shaft and Sham were surprised at just how well Graham seemed to be handling the difficult labor.

When he reached down to push some of Graham's sweat-soaked hair away from his eyes, the other man looked up at him, obviously exhausted. He'd been lying on the bed for sixteen hours, and Shaft had been watching him go through every single contraction since it began, reminding him that he only had a little longer to go before their journey was over.

And what a journey it had been. It was one that was totally unplanned and spontaneous, like many things in Shaft's life when it involved Graham. Their relationship had slowly morphed from being boss-and-lackey, to friends, best friends, and then to lovers, the transitions happening so seamlessly both of them barely noticed. Still, it was a total shock to Shaft when Graham came to him one cold September morning and announced that he was pregnant.

It shouldn't really have been such of a shock. Both of them knew there was a chance, but neither of them bothered to use protection; whether it was simply a lapse in concentration, or one of Sham's curiosities getting the better of him, they would never know. All of Shaft's instincts had told him to run, run and never look back, but when he'd seen the tears making their way down Graham's face that first time, something told him to stay.

Now they were here, two weeks before Graham's due date and nearing seventeen hours of labor. That had been a mistake on Graham's part, though honestly, it was amazing they'd made it to thirty-eight weeks with twins, which they'd found out they were having after a bit of investigation in the sixth month. Shaft had been determined to keep him off his feet for the last month of pregnancy, but, as usual, Graham had other ideas. When Shaft returned from an outing to the nearby grocery store, he found his partner in the garage, looking sheepish as he explained that his water had broken just as he'd started attempting to take the car apart.

As if that wasn't bad enough, then Graham outright refused to go to the hospital. He didn't trust the doctors, didn't want the risk of anything happening to his babies because they mishandled them, he told Shaft quite adamantly. It was by pure luck that one of the guys in Graham's rag-tag gang had medical training – he'd had a girlfriend who was a midwife – and agreed to help them deliver at home. By the strength of Graham's contractions in the beginning, they were sure that the two would be delivered within six hours; but, yet again, they were wrong. Even though he wasn't fully dilated yet, the contractions were still intense, and Shaft and Sham couldn't understand how Graham was staying so calm through them.

A soft, low moan from the bed beside him signaled another contraction, and Shaft looked back down at Graham in the bed. His eyes were screwed shut, but Shaft reached over with a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes again, gently stroking the top of his head.

“Breathe through it, Graham,” he instructed gently, offering up his other hand for Graham to hold. “You're doing so well.”

For once in his life, Graham was doing as Shaft instructed, keeping his breathing deep and even as it passed. When it was over, his eyes sprung open, and he looked at Shaft miserably, looking totally and completely worn out. He didn't even know how he was supposed to push, if he had as little energy left as Shaft thought he did.

“I really, _really_ think I need to push, Shaft,” he said, voice rushing out all in one breath. Shaft turned his eyes to the boy at the end of the bed, who looked up at the two of them after finishing his inspection.

“That's good, then, because you're ready to,” he told them. Immediately, a tiny smile spread across Graham's face, and Shaft let his shoulders sag with a bit of relief, happy that they were getting closer. “On the next contraction, I need you to push, and hold it for ten seconds, alright?” He didn't look weary at all, now, as Shaft helped him sit up in a position that would, hopefully, make the birth easier on him.

As soon as the next one came, Graham latched onto Shaft's hand, pushing with renewed determination. Then, for the first time that night, he actually cried out; it was a long, low wail that came from high in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut as the contraction peaked and their “midwife” counted to ten. Shaft had to grind his teeth together after Graham released his hand, hoping that he didn't end up breaking it before this was over. The man had an incredible grip, which wasn't surprising considering he was a mechanic.

They both had little time to rest before the next one came, and then another. An hour of pushing went by, with Graham making precious little progress, his cries getting louder and longer each time he had to push. By now, the contractions were coming nearly one on top of the other, giving both of them no time to rest. Shaft did his best to console Graham, who was screaming through the contractions as he pushed, the pain undoubtedly overwhelming him. There really wasn't much he could do, and that was what pained Shaft the most; the man he loved was in terrible, incredible pain, and he couldn't do anything but watch and wait.

Fortunately, it didn't seem like they had to wait much longer. The “midwife”'s words were mostly just whispers in Shaft's head, because he was totally focused on Graham, but he managed to catch a comment that the first one was crowning and “it wouldn't be long now.”

Even so, thirty more minutes passed before the first one's head was totally out, and after the contraction Graham leaned into Shaft's arms, shaking heavily. Using his free hand, Shaft gently stroked his hair again, still trying vainly to keep it out of his eyes.

“Maybe – I really should've waited,” he panted, chest heaving with the effort it took to speak. “They – really don't want out yet.”

“You think?” Shaft couldn't hold back a light chuckle. “They're probably mad at you for trying to evict them early.”

“Yeah well, tough shit,” Graham said in a low growl, before taking another deep breath and bearing down again.

The shoulders weren't that bad after he'd gotten the head through, and a few strong pushes was all it took for the first half to be over. Shaft was able to peer over Graham's body to get a look (though he almost wished he hadn't as it came out), and suddenly, he felt like his world had suddenly grown twice its size in a matter of seconds.

“It's a girl,” the other boy announced, clearing out her airways so that she could breathe. And breathe she did, after which she let out a loud, piercing wail, voicing her displeasure at the world through her cries. He set the baby on Graham's chest for a moment, so he could see her, and all of a sudden his entire demeanor changed. Graham's focus was entirely on his – no, their – daughter, giving a weak cry of his own as he stroked her head.

For once, it seemed like Graham was actually speechless, before he finally said, “She's beautiful.” Shaft leaned over to get a better look, and to press his lips against Graham's cheek.

“She looks like you.” Before, Shaft had never understood why parents said that; to him, all newborns looked mostly the same, strange and alien and wrinkled, but his daughter was different. She had a few paper-thin wisps of hair that were almost undoubtedly blonde, and she did remind him of Graham in a way. Perhaps because of how loud she was screaming. “What's her name?”

“Erin.” Graham looked up at Shaft, as if daring him to say anything about it. He didn't, of course. Naming the babies would be totally up to Graham, he'd decided early on in the pregnancy, as he was the one who had to go through all the difficulties of having them.

She was taken to finish getting cleaned off a bit later, and they all expected her sibling to be quick to come after her. Yet again, they were mistaken. The twin seemed to have no intentions of coming out quickly, instead taking its sweet time, which made Graham predictably irate.

“I can't do this,” Graham gasped out, nearly an hour after the first was born. “I'm so tired – Shaft, I want it to end.”

“You can do this, and it'll all be over soon,” Shaft assured him, running his thumb across the backs of Graham's fingers. “Just keep doing what we tell you, okay? You can do this.” He continued to murmur the short mantra into Graham's ear as he pushed again, hoping it would give him enough energy to carry on through the end.

Apparently, it did, as nearly an hour and a half after her twin, their second daughter was finally born, no quieter than her older sister. As weak and tired as he was, Graham still smiled when she was placed on his chest, putting an arm around her protectively. Her hair was, surprisingly, more like Shaft's, except with a bit more red in it than brown. She seemed to take after her father more, too, or at least more than her sister.

“It's all over, you did it,” Shaft said, leaning over to give Graham a proper kiss. When he pulled back, he asked for her name again.

“Emmelina, but we'll call her Emmi.” Ah, a German name. Unsurprising; Graham had expressed a great desire to give them German names like his parents had before their deaths. Honestly, Shaft was surprised that he'd taken his suggestion to name one of the girls “Erin”, having expected him to go ahead and do as he pleased. But then, Graham rarely ever did what was expected.

Once they'd all gotten cleaned up, and the bed changed and fixed up, Shaft took the rare moment to relax, looking over Graham and their daughters as they slept. He deserved a good, long rest; after nineteen and a half hours of grueling labor, Shaft wouldn't be surprised if he slept for a day. But then, he also thought, he wouldn't be surprised if Graham was back up the next day, pissed off at being pent up in the house and trying to take apart the bed.

Deciding that he'd worry about all of that later, Shaft took one last look at his peacefully-sleeping partner before settling into the chair next to him, allowing himself a good rest for the first time in months.


	4. Длинная ночь / Dlinnaya noch' [Long Night]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: The Russian idea for the chapter comes from a headcanon that Kalia is Russian.

** June 9 th , 1941 **

Surprisingly, it was the sound of his wife banging her head against the wall in frustration that woke Berga, rather than the constant wails of his daughter that night. After all, the little girl had been crying all night, and Berga had turned it out after a while, leaving it to Kalia to figure out what, exactly, was going on. Apparently, she hadn't been successful.

“Kali, relax,” Berga said, pushing himself up off the bed with a yawn. The black-haired woman growled in response, before turning to look at him, sheer desperation in her face. She had been standing with her hands placed against the wall, her hair totally out of place and going _everywhere_ , her one-blue one-green eyes accentuated by the dark bags under them. “She's probably just one of those babies who cries a lot. Luck was like that, y'know?”

Kalia just looked at him miserably. “But she just won't stop, Berga. She just screams. And screams. I checked everything, I fed her three times –  _three times_ – and I changed her too. I held her. I sung to her. Nothing's working.” Her fingers curled into her hair, her eyes went wide. “I think she hates me. That must be it.”

“She's two months old, Kali, she doesn't hate you,” Berga assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing gently. “Tell you what. I'll go get her, and bring her in here, okay? Maybe she just needs a change of scene.”

“You can try.” Seemingly ready to give up, Kalia staggered over to the bed, collapsing on top of it while Berga went into the room next to them.

Terra had been born two months ago, one day after Keith and Kate's first daughter, and one day before Luck and Dallas's second, who was also their first daughter. Her conception and birth had been incredibly mysterious; Kalia had been very secretive about the whole thing, and for a very good reason. She was a Witch, just as her mother and grandmother before her, and had sectioned herself away during the pregnancy. In fact, the two of them had kept it so secret that no one even knew about the little girl until they both showed up one day, Kalia carrying the squirming newborn in her arms.

Even though she was the reason they hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in weeks, Berga couldn't help but be proud of his daughter as he held her. She was a feisty one, a fighter, had been ever since she was born, which wasn't surprising. He offered his thumb to his squalling daughter as he carried her back to his room, and she curled her hand around it, reminding Berga of just how tiny she actually was.

Kalia looked up as Berga re-entered the room, rolling onto her side to watch him as he came to sit with Terra on the bed. Then, he carefully placed her on her back between them, before curling up on his side so that she was nestled safely between her parents. Almost immediately, her wailing stopped, which made Berga grin widely.

“See? She just wanted to sleep with us.”

“Yeah. Just make sure you don't roll over and crush her, alright? I put a lotta' work into her.” Kalia's words were mostly teasing, but there was a note of worry in her voice. Berga hummed in response, shifting a bit so he could put one arm around Kalia's waist, while still keeping a careful watch on his daughter.

The three of them slept peacefully for the first time that night.


End file.
